


Dear readers (part 2)

by Alois_D, Predec2



Series: Dear readers [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, My co-author is awesome!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:13:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alois_D/pseuds/Alois_D, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Predec2/pseuds/Predec2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear readers, my name is Justin Taylor and I just made a shocking discovery.<br/>NB: You might want to read Brian's announcement first so you will understand what I'm talking about...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear readers (part 2)

 

I’m just discovering Brian’s letter to you. He never WAS good at hiding things from me, whether it was emotions or actual, physical objects. Yet, to say I’m speechless would be an understatement. He confided in you, telling you that he loved me? Informing you about our wedding? Using the word ‘glowing’? GLOWING??? Do you realize what it means to me?

  


I just want to _cuddle_ him right now…Kidding!  He will never get over saying that; I won’t let him. And he would deny it to his dying day, but I’m sorry, Brian DOES like to cuddle sometimes.  Or should I say ‘snuggle,’ so it won’t offend his sensibilities.  Just don’t tell him I told you that, okay?  

  


Seriously, I can’t believe I’m reading this. And he is so going to kill me if he finds out I did.

  


But you know what? I think I’ll make sure he finds out somehow, because his method of ‘killing someone’ is the _only_ way to die, if you ask me. Just thinking about it makes me hard. I can feel my cock growing in my pants, and all I’d need to do is open them, slide my hand languorously inside, and oh so slowly begin to...

  


Okay, shut up, Taylor. Seriously, readers, you can GAG me if you want, so that I won’t go all romantic on you.

  


Fuck. You’re not helping here. I know what you’re thinking about me being gagged and… Okay. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Yeah… And no. NO. NONONONONO. It’s not sexy. NOT. SEXY.

  


Where was I?

  


Oh yeah.  Brian. I wanted to talk to you about the first time I saw him. I was seventeen years old…Jesus, I was so young! When I think about it today, I really think I must have been mindless and stupid to go and walk around on Liberty Avenue like a piece of fresh, first-class meat in quest of the great love of my life. Well, mostly I wanted to get laid, but I also had fantasized about it so much, you know? It’s completely insane, but teenagers are so oblivious about what’s going on out there. _I_ certainly was.

  


A clueless virgin, with the kind of innocence that Brian found endearing. Well, tantalizing, anyway. Like he said, he didn’t exactly pull out the welcome mat for me after that first night.

  


But he knew a good thing when he saw it, and so did I. He took me back to his loft and fucked me. And I loved it. And I loved HIM. And maybe it was a post-coital, kind of love, because, well, the guy had fucked me soooo good, and until then, I had no idea how euphoric I would feel after that first time. Or like, I really had no idea what to expect at all. He was drop-dead gorgeous and so hot, and I just wanted to feel him again and again. And his cock…You should have seen it. (I mean, _see_ it. It’s just as grand now as it was then, thank you very much, a fact for which I will forever be grateful.)  And the sounds he made that night - and those intense, hazel eyes that seemed to look deep into my soul - it was all so hypnotic when he came. I wanted it to never end. It was the best night of my life.  Well, up until then, anyway.  More about that later...

  


And then… well, you know. It started. The ‘denial phase.’  Brian Kinney Lesson One. Blablabla. ‘Don’t do love. Had you. Maximum pleasure, minimum of bullshit. See me in your dreams.’

  


Right...He really didn’t know who he had fucked - or who he was fucking _with_. If he’d known, he would have maybe been more prepared for what was coming later (pardon the pun - ha!). Probably. Merely. Or he might have had a chance to escape when he still had the opportunity.

  


Scratch that. He never stood a chance to resist me. YOU never stood a chance, either, did you?  * grinning.* You so love me, don’t pretend otherwise. I know you do. I’m irresistible.

  


I claimed to be in love with him since the very beginning. It was real to an extent, but I think I was also wrong. I didn’t have any idea what loving a man really meant at the time. I didn’t even know the man he really was. I admit it. I was like an annoying brat who just wanted to keep his new favorite toy around to play with, and who wanted to cry when he couldn’t have his way. Sort of like some reverse psychology. The more you couldn’t have it, the more you desperately wanted it. Yearned for it, even. Thank you, Gatsby, for serving to enlighten me on the very embodiment of Brian Kinney.

  


And what a ‘toy’ he was, let me tell you. I never had so much fun playing with one in my entire life!  And so versatile.  And this toy had more toys in his treasure chest than I could have ever imagined.  Some that I had no clue what you did with...but he soon showed me.  And I used to think that paint-by-number sets were fun!  

  


But I like to think that I _knew_ , even back then. Firstly because I had had plenty of offers from others before he saw me (i.e., leering looks and just outright lurid invitations), but I chose him without a second thought.  And you know, maybe I was utterly foolish to leave with a stranger and let him take me to who-knows-where just so I could lose my virginity (I mean, I had exchanged about twenty words with him, for fuck’s sake, most of which were total lies about clubs I knew nothing about). But I could feel…something _real…_

  


No. Not THAT. Naughty readers…!

  


No, it was… I don’t know how to describe it exactly. A connection? From the very first night, I was addicted to him. His smell, his touch, his ‘in-your-face’ attitude; all of him was alluring, and I wanted more. Always more. More. More. MORE. You get my point.  Like one, big, Lays Potato Chip.  Emphasis on the ‘lays’ part.  

  


_Was_ I actually in love with Brian from the beginning, or with the IDEA of being in love?  No...I really think it was love.  Who _wouldn’t_ fall in love with this man?  I mean, Brian had been so gentle that night. For all his devil-may-care attitude, he was patient, loving, and kind. That should have told me what kind of man he really was; because if he had been a prick, he would have taken what he had wanted from me without any hesitation, and discarded me the next day like a dried-up paintbrush. Not the other way around.

  


He was no Prince Charming, though. He was fucking high on our first night together, and not just from the sheer pleasure of becoming a father (actually, I think that part scared the shit out of him for a while, but I could still tell that he was in love with that baby from the moment he saw him). I quickly figured out his not-so-lucid mental condition when he spelled out for me his limited, yet endearing knowledge of the alphabet (ending with the letter “E”) before trying to blow me, and even more so when he proceeded later to show me how difficult it was to juggle; although, I eventually understood he was adept at juggling tricks, not just inanimate objects.

  


He told me that he could never give me anything. It just wasn’t his style. Yeah, I agree with you... What a joke, right? If one man is the epitome of giving, it really is Brian Kinney. He gives, and gives... and gives again. Of course, when you are at the receiving end of his splendid, one-hundred percent, _deep_ dedication, it’s really satisfying; So good. So unique. So deliciously….Uhh….what was I saying?  

  


Shit. Give me twenty minutes, I need to… No? You don’t want me to leave? But I… What do you mean, I can wait five minutes before making _sweet_ love (you DO realize Brian would have a meltdown if he’d read that, right?) to him? And really, DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU’RE ASKING OF ME?  No red-blooded, human, gay male should ever have to exhibit such self-control.  You would understand if YOU had ever been on the receiving end, if you know what I mean...

  


Taking deep breath here. Okay! Five minutes. Just because you’re all eager to know what comes next. But not one minute more.

  


So, where was I? Ah, yes, me falling in love with Brian (I really need a cold shower, you, evil readers...)

  


That first time, it was love to me. And I never changed my mind. Brian...I’m not exactly sure _when_ he fell in love with me. But if anything, I have always been a good observer. After all, I AM an artist; I have an artistic eye. I see things most other people don’t see. And I noticed that Brian talked the talk a lot of the time, but didn’t walk the walk. He can come off as sarcastic and unsympathetic if you just take him at face value, but so many times I have seen him do things quietly and unobtrusively in the background, without anyone even noticing or even thanking him. Things that showed how much he loved his friends, his son...and _me_.

  


Of course at times, I forgot all about that. The bashing happened. I began to doubt myself, and as a result I doubted _him_. During that one foolish time in my life, for just a while I thought I needed something more. Enter Ethan. Yeah, I know. One, gigantic mistake. But come on! I was nineteen, insecure, dealing with PTSD, and dreaming of romance, of being wooed. Pretty words, pretty things. I was stupid, and naive. Believe me, I learned my lesson.

  


So, he took me back. And we fucked. And we fought. And we fucked some more, only with three balls instead of four (and I really didn’t mean that to rhyme, I swear.)

  


And for a time, we were fucking good together - even better than before.  Not THAT kind of ‘fucking good.’  Wait, scratch that. The fucking WAS good. But _we_ were good, too. In a really amazing place.  He even acknowledged me as his partner!

  


And then, I left him again. I didn’t doubt him anymore, it was just that I eventually felt like we wanted different things. Yes, I was angry at him, because I thought he refused to change for us. Dear readers, you don’t need to tell me. Another HUGE mistake. Why everything regarding Brian Fucking Kinney has to be so _huge_ , anyway? Everything is so much harder to deal with (you’ve noticed that I used the words ‘huge’ and ‘hard’ in this sentence. My subconscious is so naughty when I talk about Brian. I think Brian bribed it with the promise of a HUGE, HARD fuck. There are those words again. Bad, _bad_ mind of mine). Tee-hee...Jealous, much?

  


But come on, Brian Kinney has never been an easy man. Words didn’t mean the same things to him, not like they do to you and me. Not that he can’t use verbal skills effectively; after all, he uses words to manipulate people for a living all the time, and he’s damn good at it.  But his parents used them to guilt him. Words always seemed like a weapon to him, or a way to deceive or hurt others, and never a way to express love (at least not the ‘in love’ kind). So, he didn’t want to use them, not with me. When you think about it, he couldn’t have _given_ me a better sign that he was in love with me. Another part of the Brian Kinney Operating Manual for which I needed a long time to figure out.

  


However, a bomb scared the shit out of him. So much so that he finally told me what I had been waiting for years to hear him say.

  


I know what you’re thinking. It’s not as if I didn’t know. I did.

  


Yet, the bomb might have been the push he needed to react the way he did, and to propose, but it’s nothing compared to how scared I became when he turned into the man I thought I wanted. Seriously, a Brian Kinney who offers flowers, buys a mansion in the country, makes love to me in front of a fireplace, and prefers to cuddle instead of engaging into a fuckfeast?  And he accused _Michael_ of being a Stepford fag!  (Although, I have to admit, the making love in front of the fireplace WAS kind of nice.  Except that I had an incredibly sore ass afterward, and not just because Brian’s dick had been inside of it several times. Have YOU ever had sex on a hardwood floor?  Hard...wood...  Aargh!  Five minutes, five minutes...

  
  


Okay; I agree with you. I’d be lying  if I’d said I didn’t enjoy it immensely at first, but it... it just wasn’t HIM. Brian Kinney. This gorgeous stud who fucked, rimmed, rammed, and sucked me until I forgot my own name.

  


I had been wrong all along. I realized I didn’t want Brian to change.  I wanted him to feel free to be who he had always been, the man who believed in fucking, who made no promises he couldn’t keep, who lived by his mantra of ‘no apologies, no regrets.’

  


That’s the part when I decided to leave. The ‘Welcome, New-York!’ phase. But that didn’t mean that I was willing to let him go. In fact, before I left to pursue my career, I already knew I would NEVER let him go again. Not when he had actually proved to me in a  thousand different ways how much I meant to him. And definitely not when I had finally realized he was all I ever wanted.

  


You’d think he was used to me getting what I wanted by then. Well, Brian Kinney is and always has been a huge challenge and hard work, remember? But boy, the ending result is so worth it!

  


So, we fucked, and we fought. AGAIN. Yeap, still with three balls.

  


And he could never get rid of me. From the moment he first saw me, until today.

  


Now, he has stopped fighting. Well, you know, sometimes he ties me up and I pretend to be his prisoner. I need to resist and to tell him to let me go, and he takes great pleasure in torturing me, like the night of our honeymoon when he licked me until I was begging him shamelessly to let _it_ go _…_ Jesus, our honeymoon…I never _did_ find out where he had hidden those handcuffs, mirrored glasses, and police uniform.  Not to mention the nightstick...oh, fuck.  I’m feeling hornier by the second, just thinking about all of it.

  


Okay, I really need to go now. It’s been way too long since I last saw him. What? You really have a wicked mind, you know that?  No, sorry; we don’t do threesomes anymore.  You think I would give up doing it raw, just for that?  No fucking way.  You haven’t experienced what _I_  have experienced.  And trust me, once you do, you wouldn’t go back to anything else. It’s like the best sex you could ever imagine with Brian - but intensified ten-fold. And it certainly makes spontaneity a lot easier, too!  Lube, check.  Condom...what condom?  *grin*

  


Well, you know what I mean. Don’t pretend you don’t understand, I know you _yearn_ to know everything about it…But some things are best kept just between Brian and me.  

  


**Author's Note:**

> PS: If you are really patient, one day I might just tell you more about our honeymoon. If I get the time...for now, dear readers, you will just have to use your vivid imagination. Or to beg Brian. He never can resist when I beg, after all...


End file.
